In Stacy's Head

They all stare. It’s not like I don’t notice. Some things are just not important to me anymore. Like staring.

My birthday was yesterday, a Sunday. I got a new doll that rides a horse. I brought her to school. I unzipped my backpack and showed her to my friend, Elize, but the teacher passed and whispered to me that I had to keep her ‘safe’ in my locker for the whole day. Then my cheeks felt hot because everyone else must have known that rule and I didn’t. The teacher wouldn’t have whispered it like when you have to fix your clothes to not show your skin if the rule wasn’t a secret one that everyone knew already. There were a lot of those.

The day started out great. I had chocolate milk and my favorite pencil and the annoying boy was absent. Then in reading group, the teacher wanted to test me. I was not ready for a test.

Even when she blocked off most of words on the page, I could not make sense of it. Then my brain shut down and my mouth shut up and I acted sad because that makes people leave you alone.

View this story's 4 comments.